


The Cutting Room Floor

by elle_stone



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-06
Updated: 2006-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 19:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_stone/pseuds/elle_stone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The discarded scenes of his life say the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cutting Room Floor

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2006 for challenge number 248, a new job/stars/a needle/the number 143, at the speed_rent community on livejournal.

Roger. Drinking coffee and skimming through the want ads. Running his finger down the page. Wrong, wrong, wrong. What’s an aspiring musician to do when he needs cash?

 

Mark. Looking through black and white prints. Sometimes the city is beautiful. 

 

Roger. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

 

“Tell you what?” Mark. Tired and uninterested.

 

“That today is your birthday.”

 

Mark. Twenty years old. Exactly. Looking through black and white prints. Looking at Roger. Who is skimming through the want ads. Sometimes the boy is beautiful.

 

*

 

Mark. Fifteen years old. First job. Bagging groceries at the supermarket. Watching the customers. Imagining turning their dull, plodding existences into movies that explain the meaning of life.

 

Mark. Waiting to explain the meaning of life. Waiting to understand the meaning of life.

 

*

 

Roger. Finds a job just for money for Mark’s gift. Doesn’t know what to get Mark. Serves drinks and listens to rambling alcoholics. Always nods. Works two months before the money is saved, and by then it is spring, and Mark is twenty years, two months old. 

 

Roger. Staring at Mark’s unmade bed. Wondering what to give him.

 

*

 

Roger. Does not know. That in seven years Mark will take him to the mountains. Tell him.

 

You’re still alive.

 

And.

 

I love you.

 

Will lie with him on the bare ground and count the stars. Because they can see the stars. Now. Here. The number of stars. One hundred and forty three. Then they fall asleep.

 

*

 

Roger. At work. Has broken three glasses today. Does not know what’s wrong with him.

 

Mark. Watches Roger break the third. Does not know what’s wrong with him. Worries about him.

 

“Maybe you should quit.”

 

But.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

*

 

Mark. Hates needles. Always has. Used to cry at the thought of them. Has never cried at funerals. 

 

Mark. Knows about April. Knows about April before Roger does. Cannot find it in him to say.

 

*

 

Roger. Before April. Before needles. Before the mountains, and appreciating every day. At work. Sees Mark coming through the door. Smiles.

 

Appreciates the day.

 

*

 

Roger. “What do you want for your birthday?”

 

But.

 

“It’s not for months.”

 

“I meant your last.”

 

Mark. Twenty years, two months, three weeks old. Doesn’t know. Can’t say. Has no answer.

 

Smiles. Like he means it. Gets his next three drinks for free.

 

*

 

Mark. Counts 143 stars. And 28 years of Roger’s life. And 27 years of his own. Closes his eyes.

 

There was no gift. Seven years ago. No gift except for the seven years themselves. When Roger only left once. 

 

Mark. Knows that is something. Knows that is a lot.

 

*

 

Roger. Pretends to sleep. Lets his mind drift. Thinks of ugliness. The dirt of the city. Abandoned apartments. Fires on the street. Gravesites. That he has never visited.

 

Back in the loft. Sifting through the black and whites. Thinks of beauty. 

 

Mark. Enters. Is home. Thinks of beauty.

 

*

 

Mark.

 

Roger.

 

Mark.

 

Sometimes they were beautiful.


End file.
